On one of our last days in Japan, I treated myself to a facial.
At the end of the treatment, the aesthetician sat back and said, "Erin, your skin is SO dry. This is definitely increasing the wrinkles on your face."
I'm 27 years old. Are we really talking about wrinkles right now? You've got to be kidding me.
"You really need to start moisturizing more or you'll just see more of them in the future."
Ok, lady, I got your point the first time you said it.
Sheesh. Enough for thinking that a facial was actually going to make me feel better about myself.
I trudged off to our hotel room and proceeded to spend the rest of the day sulking.
Had I reached that point where the ease and effortlessness of one's youth had finally washed away and somebody just happened to wake me up to its reality?
Do I actually look a lot older than I did five years ago and I just didn't realize it?
Am I aging rapidly?
So, as you can tell, my inner demons took over and there was no turning back.
I returned to DC with the aesthetician's voice in my head, except that I magnified it ten fold to something like this:
"ERIN, YOU HAVE LOADS AND LOADS OF WRINKLES ON YOUR FACE!! QUICK! DO SOMETHING ABOUT THEM BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!"
As much as I tried to reason with myself, nothing cured me of this terrible, nagging voice.
So I made an appointment with a dermatologist; my first.
I told him that I have really dry skin because of all of the swimming I do for exercise. And......I confessed my facial story.
And that's when Botox came up.
"You know, Erin, a lot of women nowadays are using Botox as a preventative measure. If done right, it can look really nice," the doctor said.
Did I just step into a pile of shit again? This is NOT what I came to the dermatologist to hear.
As a result of my appointment, I have now spent the greater part of this week analyzing just why I've focused so much of my attention on what I rationally realize is a very silly topic.
For someone who has openly judged regular people for getting Botox and other age-defying injections and surgeries, why was I the one in the dermatologist's office obsessing over the reality that I am, in fact, getting older?
Am I just as concerned about looking 'older' as the next person? (Most likely)
If so, how can I be more like my mother, who accepts aging with grace and a sense of humor, and, might I add, looks absolutely fabulous as well?
Ah! But that sort of wisdom comes with time...and as a result of time, you.....
Well, you get the point :)
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